Hey! Let's be frank
We overlabor ourselves
To mould white clay to iron calabashes
We bake hard bread in icy hardships
It runs in the family both rich or broke,
As long as you're a green and white folk
Trending on same broken bridges and roads
Patched cultures and black isotopes
Abiding by same policy we create to create greed in us
Let's be frank, we burnt the bread
So sing me a sonnet of the green and white songs
That writes with white ink and erase itself
For a tree dries each time a child dies
And its blood is black and in the cloud it cries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem